pinky promises
by dezel
Summary: He looks just like her, and she hates him for it.


_I'm sorry for all the sad stuff. Things aren't going so hot irl, and I'm not sure how to deal with it anymore. This got corny at the end though, sorry._

–

He looks just like Amelia, and Anya hates him for it. He's got her smile, her eyes, her hair. He's so much like Amelia, that Anya is sure she'll be just like her own parents and outright reject him, like they did her. She knows, on so many levels, it wasn't Alfred's fault for what happened to Amelia. She knows that, at the end of the day, a newborn is not responsible for the death of its mother. Pregnancy was difficult on Amelia, who had insisted on carrying the child because Anya was reluctant about bearing children herself.

Amelia had reasoned that she wanted to be a mother, and she wanted to be better than their own had been. The duo had come from similar backgrounds, being thrown out for their sexuality. Rejected outright, Amelia had vowed that if they ever had children, she would do it differently. She would love the child, no matter what and even if a god were tell tell her stop loving it, she would tell the god to go fuck itself.

Anya had admired that, because she shied away from children, even if she liked them. She was worried that she would end up like her father, who drank to the bottom of the bottle every day, or her mother, silent and distant, her children nothing more than a burden. She was worried she'd give any potential children similar bruises, similar scars. She chose to be child free, until she met Amelia, who wanted kids and it took five years of being together and another four before they came to the agreement.

In vitro cost them a lot, but by then, they both had stable jobs and a steady income. It was hard on Amelia at first, none of the sperm taking to Amelia and a doctor had finally diagnosed her with endometriosis, and explained that she may not be able to ever get pregnant. Amelia, however, is stubborn and Anya had joked that her stubbornness is what would kill her one day. And it had.

Amelia got pregnant, after many procedures, after insisting and insisting. There was a little boy growing in her, and Amelia was so happy. Two months in, the doctors warned her that it may not last, but the pair decided to just go for it anyways. Amelia was so insistent, and said that if she did miscarry, she wanted to adopt though, she did admit, that it may not be for awhile.

Something went wrong during the pregnancy, and their doctor urged her to get a late term abortion but Amelia was stubborn. And things went even more wrong during the pregnant, and she was urged to get a Cesarean section and Amelia had agreed, because she'd get both a kid and a cool scar out of it. Her body couldn't handle that, and she ended up with internal bleeding due to negligence. Anya couldn't even hold the newborn, letting her older sister hold her instead, while Nikolai had only touched the baby's hand. He wasn't a fan of kids at all, and doesn't like holding infants.

She brought him home with her though, willing to give it a try. An infant, with a single parent, is difficult and her neighbor, Toris, had been so gracious about helping her out when she needed it. Eventually, Anya had given up. She couldn't handle the baby, she couldn't handle the stress or the grief, so she did a private adoption through the hospital. A kind couple, Arthur and Francis, had taken him. At first, it was difficult because he was the only thing she had left of Amelia.

They offered to let her see him whenever she wanted, but for awhile, she declined, but kept contact with them in case she changed her mind. After three years, she did. When they let her come over, she had been so surprised at how big he had grow, waddling around and playing, he was babbling and social. He gave her a lot of hugs, and with baby babble, told her he loved her because she was pretty.

Today, he's turning four. So, Anya had agreed to come to his and Matthew's birthday party (because Francis _insisted_ he and Arthur adopt another child and their birthdays are so close anyways). It's surreal, because she thinks she's staring at Amelia and she resents him for it.

"No thanks."

Alfred frowns, withdrawing his hand and looking at the dandelion and holds it back up to her. "It's yellow," he says, as though the logic was sound.

"I see that."

"Like your hair. It's yellow, like your hair." With his other hand, dirty and covered in remnants of frosting and ice cream, tugs at his own. "And mine."

"Yes, I know." _You look like her._

"So, you should have it." She wants to tell Alfred that it's a weed, to go play with his friends and brother. Anya stares at him. God, his logic is almost like Amelia's. She insisted on keeping sunflowers in their home every day just because Anya liked them and they're were just as pretty as her. He nods to himself. "And you're pretty too."

That's what her snapping point, as hot tears run down her flushed face. She quickly rubs at her eyes, because it's inappropriate to cry at a child's birthday party, let alone in public. Alfred stares at her, the frown returning and he gives her a tight hug, the best a confused little boy could do.

Automatically, her hand goes to his hair, rubbing it and playing with it. "I'm sorry," she forces out, trying to smile. "I do not mean to cry."

"It's okay," the little boy says. "Sometimes I get sad and cry too." She's been sad for four years, then. "I can get you another flower if it makes you happy." She notices Francis approaching, and is glad about that.

"Alfred," he says. "Go play."

"But Miss Anya is sad."

"I will help her, so go play. Enjoy your trucks." Alfred hesitates at first, and then nods. He gives her a quick hug again, and takes off to join his friends in a game of tag. "Are you okay?"

"I do not mean to cry." Francis helps her up, and leads her inside. She sniffles. "This has been difficult."

"Yes, I would assume so." He hands her a tissue. "You could leave, if you want. Or stay. If you're comfortable with it."

"I will stay." Francis gently touches her arm, and she's nearly crying again. "He looks like her."

"Is that so?" Anya nods. Francis purses his lips a little bit. "Would you like to stay inside for awhile?" Anya nods again, and he leads to her to a different room. She sits down on the chair. "Come join us whenever you would like, or get one of us if you need anything."

"Of course." She mumbles. It takes her awhile, but she does return, preferring to sit by herself now. Francis comes over, and offers her a glass of whine and she accepts it, thankful for the existence of alcohol. Some time later, Alfred cautiously approaches her, this time, a bunch of dandelions clutched in his little hand.

"Papa told me you were sad because someone you cared about went away," Anya sips at her wine, peering at him curiously. The little boy draws in a deep breath and he thrusts his hand out towards again, much like earlier. It's reminiscent to when Amelia tried to awkwardly ask her out on a date. "So here. Flowers always make Feli happy when he's sad, so we cover him in flowers when he cries."

Anya smiles and takes the dandelions from him. "Thank you. Are you and Feli friends?"

Alfred nods. "But Mattie is my best friend cause he's my brother. We fight sometimes, and he makes me really angry but he is my best friend."

"I'm best friends with my siblings too."

"Do you love them? 'Cause I love my brother lots even though I pushed him yesterday and Papa got really mad at me."

"I love them lots. They are far away from me, though."

"Are you sad because they're far away?"

Anya thinks about it. "Yes," she finally answers. "I miss them every day."

"How come they're far away?"

"Because sometimes love means you gotta be far away." Alfred cocks his head to his side, brows furrowing. "I still see them sometimes."

Alfred gives her another hug. "Well, I love Miss Anya. She's even my bestest friend." Anya feels tears coming on again and she almost shoves him away, but reluctantly pats him on the back. "You won't ever leave, right?"

She places her hands on his shoulders, and gently shoves him away from her, looking right into his eyes. "I won't," she swears.

"Pinky promise?" He holds out his pinky to her. She stares at him. "When you make a pinky promise, it's life or death." Alfred says, seriously. "You gotta keep them."

She smiles faintly, hooking her pink with his. "Pink promise." He gives her a hug, beaming. "Now go play before it's bedtime."

Pleased he got her to smile, Alfred takes off, yelling at the top of his lungs at how he got a pretty lady to smile and everyone must praise him for it. When Anya goes home for the night, she takes the dandelions with her and puts them in a cup of water.


End file.
